


Serendipity

by QuoteIntangible



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Cameos by BTS, Captain Chan, Everyone Had A Crappy Childhood, Hurt Felix, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Pre Minho/Jisung, Pre-Slash, Rebel Pilot Minho, Slavery, Stowaway Jeongin, Swearing, ex-child soldier!Chan, ex-child soldier!Changbin, failed experiment Jisung, pansexual prince Hyunjin, slave!Felix, slave!Seungmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28235934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuoteIntangible/pseuds/QuoteIntangible
Summary: Bang Chan’s ship is NOT stolen … but a few of the pieces just might be.Or how Chan found a family across the galaxies in the stray kids he never intended on picking up, but was forever grateful he did
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of the first story of a series I am hoping to make. Please let me know if you are interested in me continuing!

The army recruited Chris at 14. Or more accurately, one side of the civil war conflict on his planet abducted him off the streets and attempted to brain wash him into fighting for their side. He never wanted to fight in the pointless, never-ending war, and his captors could not successfully brain wash him into their brand of nationalism and being ‘honored to sacrifice himself for their cause.’ But it was either fight or be shot trying to flee. So six months of grueling mental and physical training later, Chan fought in his first battle on the front lines of a war that started before he was born and he never knew how or why it started to begin with. He never knew why he was fighting nor what he was fighting for. The only thing he knew for years was fight, or die.

Within the first year on the front lines, Chan lost every friend he had made. One panicked and fled, and was shot to death by their own commander. Another took their life. And the rest died on the field; some in his arms, and some he simply could not find after the battle and instantly knew why.

Maybe it was the fact that he had never been successfully brain washed, and therefore would not actively sacrifice his life for the cause, that he still had some sense of self-preservation and managed to stay alive longer than most of the others. Maybe it was just luck. Whatever it was, Chan made Captain at 17. Mostly because his Captain died on the field, and the commanders promoted Chan, the longest serving member of his team, the second his Captain got shot. The title sat distastefully on his shoulders, and he cringed whenever someone called him that.

At this point, Chan stopped trying to make friends. Tired of watching the people he cared for die, of holding them in his arms as they bled out for a cause no one believed in, Chan closed off his heart to any contact.

Then he met Changbin.

Like Chan, Changbin had survived longer than most, and had not been ‘successfully’ brainwashed into believing in ‘the cause.’ Changbin was also the only one assigned under his charge that did not call him Captain. His appreciation of that and his likeness in personality to the other boy led Chan to open his heart again, to befriend the younger soldier. He desperately pled that he would not have to watch this one die.

A few months later, Changbin saved his life for the first time; dragged his injured body from the battle field and shoved him at the first medic-bot he found. Throughout the whole ordeal, Changbin insisted Chan could not die, that he had to survive because one day they were going to escape together, and live happy, normal lives far away from this devastated planet.

It was the first time Changbin brought up escaping, but not the last, and over their years as soldiers together, they talked about it a lot to cope with their harsh reality.

They survived many battles together after that, took to watching each other’s back, protecting one another. It was the closest thing to family either had ever had.

They were alone, resting together in Chan’s room (the only perk of being a Captain not having to share a room in the barracks) when Changbin brought it up again.

“What are we fighting for, hyung?” Changbin was curled on his side, arm throw around Chan’s waist, head resting on his shoulder. Chan let his hand run through the other’s hair, lightly massaging the scalp. For the first time, Chan saw Changbin as the 16-year-old kid he actually was and not the seasoned soldier he played on the battle field.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“You ever think of running away?”

Chan bitterly huffed. “All the time.”

“If I had a way to escape this planet, would … would you come with me?”

Chan looked down at Changbin’s imploring, but serious expression. “Of course,” he said, and hugged Changbin tighter, the only comfort either had had in their short, but devastating, lives.

Turned out, Changbin really did have a way to escape the planet. The younger teen knew someone selling a stolen, salvaged space ship on the black market. If they could get the funds, pilot it, and escape without anyone seeing, they would be free for the first time in their lives.

Their pooled funds from their meager salaries were more than enough to buy the ship, and Chan had just enough experience as Captain piloting that he was certain he could at least get them off the planet. The biggest risk remained escaping unseen by their commanders. They bought the ship, hid it away, and waited for the perfect opportunity to escape. After months of planning, their hearts in their throats the entire time, they finally got their chance.

It was either escape or be killed, a risk both were more than willing to take.

In the midst of battle on a dusty plain, swarmed by combatants from both sides and under the cover of smoke from the heavy artillery and dust kicked up from their feet, Changbin and Chan snuck away unseen.

Once out of site from the battle, they shed their military outfits and changed into the street clothes they had hidden away beforehand. Leaving everything behind except their pre-packed bags of supplies, and with sweaty palms and shaking hands, they walked hand-in-hand to their last, and only hope.

All night it took them to walk there, and when they peeled back the hidden door that led to their hidden ship, Chan could not help the thrill of excitement and hope that shot through him. They both jumped when the ship roared to life and shared embarrassed, but relieved smiles with each other. He put his shaking hands on the gears, Changbin placing a hand over one of his to steady him. Together, they steered the ship out of hiding, and for the first time ever, launched into space.

They watched the grey and blue blob that used to be their planet grow smaller and smaller behind them. When it finally disappeared from site, Changbin sobbed in relief. Chan grabbed him tight and hugged him as they laughed and cried and celebrated.

“What do we do know?” Chan wondered out loud.

“Anything we want to, hyung.”

This, Chan realized, this was what freedom felt like.

+++

They met the rebel-pilot Minho in jail.

“First planet we’ve ever been to outside of our own, and we end up in jail,” Changbin said, falling onto the only unoccupied bench and burying his face in his hands.

“Sorry,” Chan said, giving the only other occupant of their cell, what looked like a teenager heavily confined in multiple cuffs and chains, a cursory glance before plopping down next to Changbin. They had no idea what planet they were on, nor did they have any clue what they were doing. Honestly, they just stopped at the first planet pre-programmed into the computer’s system and decided to see what the planet offered. It turned out to be a mistake on their part. “I didn’t mean to scratch that dude’s ship. I told you I wasn’t very good at piloting.”

“I don’t blame you,” Changbin said, giving him a fond expression and a shake of his head. “Who knew it was a jailable offence.”

“It’s only because all the rich people on this planet are stingy assholes … and corrupt.”

Chan and Changbin both whipped their heads towards their cell mate. He took his first real look at the other teen. Both of the kid’s wrists were cuffed to the wall separately on either side of his head. A chain from each wrist led to a thick metal cuff around his neck. Another set of cuffs held his ankles together, and a leather strap around his thighs kept him immobile on the bench.

“I couldn’t help but hear that you are in need of a pilot, and an escape from this planet,” the kid said offering Chan and Changbin a wide, but mischievous smile. “I happen to be a very good pilot.”

“You offering to help us?” Chan asked.

“You seem a bit … too tied up at the moment to be of much help,” Changbin joked with a quiet huff of laughter. Chan elbowed him in the ribs.

“Temporary setback,” the kid said with a cocky grin. “And yes, I am offering. Not only am I the greatest pilot you will ever meet, I can help you get off this shithole planet. And no offence, but you two don’t seem to know anything about the planets in this system, so you could definitely use my help.”

“What’s in it for you?” Chan asked.

The teen’s expression soured, lips puckered as if he were sucking on candy. “Well, you see, my fellow rebels sold me out for the very thing we were fighting against: money. And I realized, there’s no point in fighting the wealthy and their corrupt system anymore or trying to change things for the better on this god-forsaken planet.”

Chan could definitely relate. After all, he had spent years fighting a pointless, endless war only to finally escape and find himself in jail less than a month later.

“Plus,” the kid continued with a bitter smile, “they may or may not want to publicly execute me tomorrow to ‘set an example,’ so I would really like to leave this planet before then.”

“What do you think?” he asked, turning to Changbin.

“We don’t really have a choice,” Changbin whispered back. “I don’t think I trust their legal system after they threw us in jail just because some jerk threw a hissy fit.”

“You would be wise not to trust it,” their cellmate interrupted.

Changbin and Chan spared him a glance, before turning back to one another and lowering their voices.

“We really have no clue what we are doing. We have to take the chance,” Changbin said.

“I know,” he said and grasped Changbin’s arm comfortingly. “All right. We’re in—”

He turned to their new companion, only to find the teen standing in the middle of the room, completely free of the binds that had immobilized him only a second before.

“Holy shit,” Changbin exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

“If this partnership works out, I’ll teach you,” the teen said with a wink. “Ready to blow this joint and save all our asses?”

“What’s the plan?” Chan asked, all his sense now on alert. Just because he wasn’t a soldier anymore, did not mean he did not know how to still be one.

“The problem with the people of this planet,” the teen said, striding to their cell door while pulling a lump of material from his pocket. Chan briefly wondered how the teen had gotten the item through the same strip search he had likely been subject to like Chan and Changbin before quickly dismissing the thought. “Well, one of the many problems, is that these people think their money can solve every problem, and they’re too egotistical to think anyone would ever challenge their authority. So their prisons aren’t very well made.”

The teen stuck his hand through the bars and placed the lump of material into the keyhole. The lump began to vibrate and morph into the shape of a key. The kid turned the key and the door sprung open.

“That’s a handy tool,” Changbin noted. “Where’d you get it?”

“A gift from my father. He invented it. Only one of its kind, I think. He gave it to me just before the lovely, corrupt government of this planet had him killed."

Death was something Chan had become far too familiar with. He placed a hand on the teen’s shoulder, who startled and looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. “I’m sorry about your father.”

The teen pulled the key from the lock and it immediately turned back into a shapeless lump. He looked down at it sadly, eyes wet with held back tears. “I’ll never get vengeance for his death now.”

“I know we just met, and this probably sounds weird, but ... wouldn’t your father rather that you live than seek vengeance?” Changbin said.

“Yeah, you’re right.” The teen stuffed the magic material into his pocket and wiped at his eyes with his sleeves. He plastered a mischievous smile on his face. “I’ve escaped this prison several times before. It’s embarrassingly easy. Name’s Minho, by the way.”

Minho led them straight to the guards’ locker room, not meeting a single guard on the way, where they changed into spare guard outfits. They then preceded to walk straight out the front door. Their ship had yet to be impounded and remained exactly where they had left it.

“That was embarrassingly easy,” Changbin commented. “But how do we get out of here. Don’t we need a code to undock?”

“Please,” Minho scoffed as he slid into the pilot’s seat. He punched in an override code and the screen lit up green, the ship undocking. A moment later, the cockiness slipped from Minho’s face as an alarm blared, the ship bathed in flashing red lights.

Minho nervously laughed. Strapping himself to the seat, he threw the ship into reverse, backing out of the docking tunnel at a speed Chan wouldn’t dare try even in open space. Chan’s body lurched forward and he fell hard on his knees before stumbling to the closest chair. “Bad news, guys. The override alerted all authorities in the area that we are stealing an impounded ship.”

“Please tell me there’s good news,” Chan shouted over the blare of the planet’s alert system.

“Goods news is you have the best damn pilot on the planet steering your ship.” He winked at Changbin and, with a far too excited smile considering the danger, jerked the ship towards a narrow crevice between two cliff faces, the authorities hot on their tail.

“This guy is crazy!” Changbin shouted, holding onto the closest console with white knuckles as he dragged himself towards a free seat. “We should have just stayed in prison.”

Minho grinned like a mad scientist over his newest weapon of mass destruction. The valley split into three directions, and at the very last moment Minho swerved to the farthest left. The valley came to an abrupt end at a steep waterfall and Minho slammed the ship to a halt before guiding his ship into a nosedive. Chan felt his stomach drop and a moment of weightlessness before Minho righted the ship again and crashed through the waterfall into a hidden tunnel.

“We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die,” Changbin chanted.

Minho grinned devilishly at him. “Buckle up, boys. We’re about to find out what this hunk of junk can really do.”


	2. Chapter 2

They met Felix and Seungmin for the first time because Minho damaged their ship while escaping.

“I did what I said I would do,” Minho insisted while Chan glared at him, “and we all escaped unharmed.”

“The ship didn’t,” Changbin unhelpfully pointed out, popping several anti-nausea pills into his mouth and swallowing them dry. “And neither did my stomach.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Minho said. “That’s not even in the top five of the most dangerous piloting I’ve ever done.” 

“Can you fix it?” Chan asked, placing himself between Changbin and Minho who, despite knowing each other for half a day, were already bickering like siblings.

“Unfortunately, no. I only pilot ships—”

“And break them,” Changbin muttered under his breath.

“I don’t fix them,” Minho said, ignoring Changbin. “I do know a place where we can get cheap parts and cheap labor, as long as you don’t ask where the labor came from. It’s a planet not too far from here.”

“I don’t know if we have the money for it,” Chan admitted. “I’m not even sure if the money we brought with us is worth anything outside of our planet.”

“I can get us a job there,” Minho confidently said with a shrug. “One that pays half up front so we can get the ship fixed.”

“Do you just have a solution for everything?” Changbin mocked.

“Yes,” Minho said and stuck his tongue out at Changbin before turning back to Chan. “I’ve been to this planet a lot. I did supply runs here for the resistance. I’ve got a few connections.”

“Is the work legal?” Chan asked. “I don’t exactly want to end up back in prison so soon.”

“Yes, it’s legal,” Minho said with a roll of his eyes. “Trust me.”

“I certainly do not trust you, but we really have no other choice right now,” Chan has said with an exasperated sigh. “Take us there.”

That was how Chan found himself wondering a market of the first planet he had ever got to properly explore outside of his own. It felt … odd. His planet had been reduced to rubble; the streets nearly bare of people who dared not step outside of their shelters if they could help it. The natural vegetation of his planet had long since been blown away by dynamite and TNT, leaving nothing but barren land. Greenery could only be found in the occasional hydroponic systems, if one was lucky enough to have one. Everyone, even the children, constantly looked over their shoulders, one hand always on a weapon. If you didn't, you would not survive. 

Here, the buildings were old and cracked, but still standing tall. Weeds grew through the cracks in the buildings and the roads, and the streets were filled with various humanoids. Chan still found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting danger around every corner, hands tense by his sides and patting his service weapon every few seconds to make sure it was still there. He had not survived so long as a soldier by being careless, after all.

There seemed to be two dominant species on this planet. One, much taller, standing on average at six feet, at least, with dark green skin and orange dots that lined their cheeks and arms. They were a plump, robust people, it seemed to him, and their clothes resembled hand woven fabrics in dark, rich colors. The second species seemed much more like Chan’s own, skin color and height similar to his own species. Despite the chill in the air, these people wore what could only be described as rags, the kind of clothes Chan wore before the army abducted him off the streets. Each person wore the same accessory around their necks, a thick piece of metal. They were skinny and sickly looking, and almost all of them supported visible bruises and scars. These people all kept their heads down as they hurried through the market, hugging the sides of the buildings and sticking to the shadows and alleyways, looking up nervously from time to time to scan their surroundings before returning their gazes to their feet.

Chan knew something wasn’t right with the situation, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it either, not having enough experience outside of his own planet to really understand the dynamics of this one.

A commotion drew his attention. Curious, Chan pushed his way through the gathering crowd to see what was happening. His heart dropped at the site.

There was a boy standing quivering in the center of the crowd, his head bowed, skinny arms folded over his chest. His brown hair was ragged and unkempt, and his bare arms were dirty and bruised.

A rather plump, green woman towered over the boy, scolding him harshly. “What is wrong with you?”

The members of her species in the market gathered around, and murmured their agreement with her sentiments. The woman preened under the attention, and turned to give her audience an adoring smile.

“Answer me, boy, or face the consequences,” she insisted.

The boy said nothing, and Chan watched in horror as the woman raised her hand and backhanded him hard enough to send him to the ground. She raised her hand to hit him again.

Anger surged through him like electricity, hot and dynamic. Chan rushed forward, grabbing her tight around the wrist.

The boy looked up at him in surprise. Chan faltered. In all his years on his planet, and his short month roaming the galaxies, he had never seen someone so beautiful before. The boy, teen really, could not have been much younger than Chan. A dusting of freckles covered his cute button nose and rosy cheeks, and a bit of baby fat still clung stubbornly to his cheeks. His plump lips were parted in surprise, and though chapped, looked as soft as the clouds in the sky. What struck Chan the most, though, were his eyes. There was an innocence in his eyes, something Chan had only seen in the very small children of his home planet, of those too young to understand the devastation of the war and the consequences of poverty and destruction. His soft gaze lacked the bitterness and hardness that pain and heartbreak and betrayal caused. His eyes held … hope (a concept so foreign to Chan) despite the harsh life the boy must have had considering his current predicament and the state of his body and clothes. For the first time since he met Changbin, Chan felt the rusty gate to his heart swing open, a tendril of his own locked away hope reaching out for the boy. The boy snapped his head back down to look at the ground and the woman tore her wrist from Chan’s tight grip. The spell was broken.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” Chan growled at her.

“Do not meddle in our affairs, _foreigner,_ ” she sneered.

From the corner of his eye, Chan saw someone rush forward to help the boy on the ground. Since the helper did not have green skin, Chan did not interfere. Instead, he challenged the green woman with an intense stare as he slowly inched away from the pair, drawing the woman’s eyes and the attention of the crowd away from the two, hoping to give them enough time to make an escape. Chan grasped the handle of his weapon. They stared each other down, each refusing to back off. 

“Nothing to see here, folks,” Minho’s familiar voice called out as Chan continued to meet the woman’s withering gaze. “You can all go away now.”

The crowd grumbled, but upon realizing that the intended victim of the woman’s unwarranted rage had escaped with the help of his friend while they were watching Chan, quickly went about their business.

 _Vultures,_ Chan thought.

The woman snarled when she realized her prey was gone, then turned her nose up at Chan, and stalked away. He felt Minho grab his elbow and he fought his soldier instincts to throw the younger boy off of him.

“What are you doing?” Minho hissed dragging him out of the busy main street and into an alley, Changbin on his heels. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already causing trouble. It’s like you want to get arrested again.”

“I’d rather get arrested than watch that thing beat that poor kid while everyone watched,” Chan fought back, shrugging off Minho’s grip. “It’s not entertainment.”

“It is for them,” Minho muttered under his breath.

Chan could not have heard that correctly. “What?”

Minho winced. “Unfortunately, the ruling class are very prejudice against other humanoids. They do not treat their slaves very well. They find it _entertaining_ to beat them.”

“Slaves?” Chan said, Minho’s words punching the breath out of his lungs.

“Yes. Did you … Do you not have slaves on your planet?”

Chan had certainly felt like a slave during his time as a soldier. After all, he had been forced into it, and it was either fight or be killed by his own commanders. As a Captain, he’d had some control over the battle field, but all his choices had been made for him. He experienced freedom for the first time when Changbin grasped his hand and they steered their ship far beyond the suffocating grasp of their commanders. He had been paid for his 'service,' given adequate food, medical care, and shelter. But like that boy, Chan knew the vile clutches of slavery. He had no say in what happened to him or the people he grew to care about. He couldn’t save the friends he watched bleed to death in his arms. Couldn't stop the light from flickering out of their eyes even if their hearts continued to beat. In some ways, he saw himself in that tiny, almost frail looking, teen, and his heart ached for the other boy.

“Not like this,” Chan finally said.

“I’m sorry,” Minho said. “I should have warned you.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

Changbin placed a light hand on his tense forearm, a gentle reminder to calm down. Having been in the same situation, Changbin understood what he felt right now; the hatred, the anger, the disgust and the sheer horror that anyone could treat someone else that way. Like they did not matter. Like they were property. Like they were d _isposable._ It was sickening. 

“Why don’t you tell Chan the good news,” Changbin suggested, shooting Chan a worried look.

“Uh yeah,” Minho said, clearing his throat nervously. “I found a mechanic willing to fix the ship for free if we do a cargo run for him.”

Chan forced his mind away from the boy and on Minho’s words. “It’s legal, right?”

“Of course,” Minho insisted. “What do you take me for?”

“A criminal,” Changbin teased, removing his arm from Chan’s now that he knew the older teen wasn’t about to shoot anyone.

-

For a second time that day, Chan found himself face-to-face with the boy from the market.

A large, green man, with a protruding pot belly and a stagger to his uneven steps practically dragged the boy and another, presumably the friend from the market, towards him and threw them at Chan’s feet. Both boys remained on their knees, bowing low to Chan, Changbin, and Minho. He felt sick to his stomach at the display and clenched his fists to stop himself from punching the green man.

“These two are the best mechanics I have,” the green man slurred. “They’ll have your ship fixed in no time,” he sneered with a threatening glare to the two boys.

“Yes, Master,” the second boy said.

Had the green man not turned and walked away at that moment, Chan would have strangled him.

“Please, get up. You do not have to bow like that for us,” Chan said, trying to ease the stiff set of the boys’ shoulders.

Neither boy moved.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll show you the problem area,” Minho said. The two boys rose silently to their feet and followed Minho obediently inside.

After Minho left the boys in the engine room, Chan pulled him aside. “Slaves?” he hissed angrily to the pilot so the boys would not overhear. “You hired slaves to fix our ship?”

“I did say not to ask where the labor came from,” Minho nervously joked. At Chan’s glare, he shuffled his feet and looked at the two slaves. The two had already ripped off a panel, exposing the guts of his ship, and one of them had crawled inside to inspect the damage. The boy from the market caught them staring at him, and he offered Chan and Minho a shy smile and a slight wave before turning to hand a tool to his friend. Chan felt his heart break. Someone that precious should not be forced to a life of servitude and abuse.

“Slave labor is the only kind of labor they have on this planet, and it was the only planet within range that your ship could limp to,” Minho said, looking away from the two slaves and down at his feet instead, but not before Chan caught a hint of guilt on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Chan nodded tersely, spun on his heels and stomped to his room. He locked himself in and tried in vain to hold back the memories of his own years of forced labor, shoving the horrors he’d witnessed back into their box.

Hours later, he emerged from his room.

He felt a strong urge to check on the two slaves.

Chan found them outside the ship, both boys atop shaky ladders, welding shut the area where Minho had clipped the ship on a cliff while escaping their pursuers. There were splotches of grease covering both slaves’ clothing and skin, and despite the chill in the air, sweat dripped down their faces and necks.

Changbin and Minho were both standing on the ramp, watching the two boys. Changbin sent him a questioning look, and Chan forced a smile and nodded his head slightly, assuring his second in command that he would be fine.

He stood shoulder to shoulder with Changbin as the boy from the market hopped off the ladder and lifted his welding goggles to rest atop his head, beaming at the other slave. The second boy looked fondly at the boy from the market, his eyes shiny with something akin to pride.

“I can see why you’re crushing on the kid,” Minho said, startling Chan from his staring. “He’s adorable. They both are.”

“I’m not—”

“They’re like puppies and kittens.”

“What are those?” Changbin asked, both ignoring a rather flustered Chan who decided to bite his tongue.

“You don’t have dogs or cats on your planet?” Minho asked, almost offended at the prospect.

“Our planet isn’t exactly teeming with life, not after decades of war,” Changbin said.

“Then I’ve got to show you what they look like. Right now,” Minho said, grabbing Changbin’s arm and dragging him into the ship. He threw a wink at Chan over his shoulder. He glared at the mischievous pilot, and heard only the echoes of Minho’s laughter as he disappeared into the ship with Changbin. 

Chan waited until the two slaves were done packing up the ladders, before making his presence known.

“How’s it coming along?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light. The boy from the market startled violently and would have toppled over if the second boy had not grasped his arm and steadied him. Fear flashed across both their faces. “Sorry,” Chan said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Both slaves bowed deeply. Chan felt nauseous at the display, and would have told them to stop if he thought they would listen to him.

“I apologize, sir,” the second boy said. “We are not finished yet.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Chan insisted, swallowing down the nausea. “Have you taken a break yet?”

“We are not allowed to take a break,” the second boy said.

Chan bristled in anger and clenched his fists. “That’s nonsense!”

The boy from the market flinched at his outburst. Chan forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. “Don’t be absurd. You can’t keep working on empty stomachs and without rest. Where do you need to go next? I’ll bring you something.”

The second boy looked wary and unsure, certain this was some sort of trap or a joke. His eyes softened when he looked at his fellow slave who titled his head curiously at him in response. Whether or not this was some cruel prank or a sick joke, they did need a break and would have to risk a punishment in exchange for some much-needed nourishment. “The cockpit,” the second boy finally whispered quietly.

Chan reigned in his excitement and left the boys to continue their work.

With two sandwiches and two large glasses of juice on a tray, Chan rushed to the cockpit. The second boy sat at the pilot’s seat with the boy from the market on his knees next to him rummaging through a toolbox. The computer system had been booted up, and there was a small holographic blueprint of his ship projected from the center console.

“What are you doing?” Chan asked curiously. He hadn’t even known the ship was capable of doing that.

Both boys violently flinched.

“T-the navigation is not working properly. I-I was just r-running diagnostics. I wasn’t doing anything I wasn’t supposed to, I swear!” the second boy stammered.

“I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong,” Chan placated. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

They both jumped to their feet as Chan approached. The boy from the market latched onto the other slave’s arm, grip so tight his knuckles turned white. Chan slowed his steps and deliberately set the tray down on the floor a few feet away from the two so as not to startle them further.

“What are your names?” Chan asked, backing away a few steps to give them more space to try and calm the two anxious slaves.

“We are not allowed to have names,” the second boy said, eyeing Chan and the food warily.

“You must be called something, though.”

The boy from the market looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. A smear of grease on his cheek covered the light dusting of freckles. Struck once more by the slave’s beauty, he resisted the urge to tenderly wipe away the grease from his face. The slave looked away quickly. “Felix,” he said no louder than a whisper. “And this is Seungmin.”

The second boy, Seungmin, snapped his head towards Felix in surprise and dread. Seungmin bit his lip. Peering at Chan anxiously through uneven fringe, he almost imperceptibly scouted closer to Felix, expecting Chan to react in anger.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Seungmin and Felix. I’m Chan.” He offered his most non-threatening smile to two slaves. “Please, have something to eat and drink, and rest for a few minutes.”

They looked at the food longingly, still cautious as to whether or not they should trust Chan’s kindness. “Are you going to tell our Master?” Seungmin asked.

“Of course not,” Chan assured. Neither slave looked like they believed him, like this was a cruel joke they had fallen for one time too many. “How about this? I’ll leave the room, and if the tray is empty when I come back, well, I’ll have no way of knowing it was the two of you. Right?”

Felix shuffled closer to Seungmin, grip still tight around the other slave’s arm. They did not trust him, and he could not blame them for it.

“I promise I am not trying to prank you, or be cruel. I just want to help.”

Chan backed away to the door slowly, and then turned and fled the room.

A few hours later, the ship was fixed and the tray was thankfully empty. The two slaves led them to a warehouse and showed them the cargo they were meant to transport as payment. They helped load the cargo, handed Minho the coordinates, and then they were gone.

Chan’s hands itched to grab both of them, to hold them tight and never let go and drag them, if he had to, off this hellhole of planet. His hands stayed firmly by his sides as he stared out the view screen, watching the two boys walk away from the ship and back to the cruel reality of their lives.

“We can’t just leave them here,” Chan said. “I can’t leave them behind.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Minho said. “You see those collars around their neck? It’s not a fashion accessory. If they leave the planet with those on, the collar will kill them.”

Chan clenched his eyes shut. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll figure out how to rescue them,” Changbin insisted with fire burning in the depths of his eyes. “We’ll come back.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chan and the crew he found slowly forming around him for unfathomable reasons did not so much as meet Hyunjin as they _experienced_ Hyunjin.

It started, as most things did, with Minho, who despite knowing half the people in the universe, it seemed, decided to stick around on Chan’s crummy spaceship with perhaps the two most depressing people in the universe.

 _“You two are the most entertaining people I have ever met,”_ Minho had said when Chan asked him why he stayed. He still did not know what Minho meant by that. Before he could ask, Minho slapped him on the ass and walked away.

Maybe the rebel pilot realized they needed him. Chan and Changbin had had no plan when they escaped their planet besides leaving the bonds of their past far behind them and finding freedom in whatever form it took. It was rather lucky then, for all parties involved, that they met and rescued Minho in prison. Minho found them jobs wherever they went. He helped them make enough money for food and other necessities. Chan even bought his first outfit ever, one not provided from the military or salvaged from the streets. He purchased a simple worn leather jacket, black pants with a white stripe down the side, and a loose-fitting white t-shirt. Changbin bought a brand-new weapon; a sleek, shiny black phaser with multiple settings from stun, to shock, to kill. The look on Changbin’s face when he bought it shined the rust of Chan’s heart. It wasn't much, but it more than either had ever had before. 

Despite being only 18 years old, Minho knew an extraordinary amount of people scattered across the galaxies, and seemingly had a plan for everything.

Everything, except how to free Felix and Seungmin.

“I know someone who might know someone who can help,” Minho said three months after they first left the two slaves behind, though the two boys never strayed far from their thoughts.

“That sounds promising,” Changbin sarcastically said.

Minho playfully shoved him. “It’s an old acquaintance of mine. I used to run with their crew a few years back. It’s a longshot, but it might be worth our time. If nothing else, we’ll at least probably find a job at their place.”

“I say we give it a shot,” Changbin said, looking to Chan with something akin to hope.

They’d stopped back on the planet three weeks ago to get a part replaced. Minho could have done it easily, but all three of them had wanted to see the two slaves that despite only meeting once before, the three of them had somehow become extremely protective of. Both slaves had acquired new bruises since the first time they had met. Seungmin had a black eye and busted lip. Felix had dark black and purple bruises ringing both wrists, and the stiff way he carried himself suggested there were more wounds hiding underneath his clothes. Changbin bristled with anger when he saw the bruises. Had it not been for the collars still fastened tightly around both their necks, Changbin would have grabbed both slaves in a tight hug and carried them off the planet himself. The younger soldier hated seeing anyone abused by someone who held artificial power over them, like how Changbin had been treated his entire life. Chan and Minho also knew the feeling well.

His small crew had sat and talked with the two slaves while they worked. The two boys were shy and reticent to open up to them, but they had learned bits and pieces. Like Seungmin was an actual genius. Once they got him talking about the ship, Seungmin had excitedly shed his nervousness and animatedly talked about all the ideas he had for upgrades and new technology he could explore if given the chance. Unfortunately, given that his Masters thought very little of his species, they also thought very little of his ideas. Seungmin had also been born free and raised by a group of escaped slaves hidden in the wilderness. Much like Chan and his crew, his freedom had been stolen from him at a young age and he barely remembered what it was like.

Unlike Seungmin, Felix was born into slavery.

 _“Is that not the way it’s supposed to be?”_ Felix had said. There was no malice in his eyes, and no sarcasm in his voice. He honestly believed he was meant to be slave, meant to be abused, and there was nothing better out there for someone like him. The simple statement thawed the thick exterior of ice Minho carefully constructed around himself. Not usually one for displays of affection, Minho threw away his cold image and grabbed both slaves in a tight hug. _“One day you’ll see,”_ he had promised Felix.

They had kept the slaves longer than intended, longer than what their Master had allotted for the job. Chan hoped whatever punishment the two boys faced for their tardiness was not too harsh or severe. Seungmin was somewhat protected from harsh punishments, they had deduced from the little the boys had shared, because his skills as a mechanic were too valuable to risk. It’s what the boys _didn’t_ say that worried Chan more. He shared a look with Changbin and Minho as they had watched the boys walk away, the same fear in all of them. Felix, as Seungmin’s apprentice, was much more vulnerable to punishment and abuse. In the three weeks since they’d seen the boys, anything could have happened to Felix, to both of the boys that had become precious to Chan and his crew.

Minho threw himself into finding a way to free the boys after that, contacting every acquaintance he had ever made throughout his life. Perhaps, one may have finally come through.

“What do you think, Captain?” Minho asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Chan shot back, cringing at the word Captain. “I say it’s the only lead we’ve gotten so far, so we need to follow it.”

“Good, because I’ve already set the coordinates for their place,” Minho said. “We’ll be there tomorrow.”

-

“Welcome to Big Hit Space Station,” Minho said. 

During their travels with Minho, the rebel pilot had led them to handful of space stations, but Big Hit far outmatched any of those in size and sophistication. It was more the size of a planet, than a space station, and in fact, rotated around star 061213 like a planet. An intricate web of nanoparticles encircled the entire station. The web reflected a shimmering sky blue, and acted as both a security system and an artificial atmosphere.

Minho touched their ship down on a landing pad. As soon as they exited the docking bay, a wave of the freshest, most invigorating air Chan had ever had the pleasure of smelling filled his nose. The hint of something sweet and floral caressed his senses. What he now knew were flowers, thanks to Minho, lined the path from the landing pad and a line of what he now knew were trees blanketed the horizon in various shades of pink and purple. The holographic sky was set to a sunny summer day, a few white, fluffy clouds drifting lazily. The modern buildings stood tall and sleek, a mix of glass and metal glinting in the local star’s bright light. They were not quite as tall as a skyscraper, but much larger than an average home would be. The flat roof of each building contained a garden, some of the plants spilling over the edges of the buildings. And just beyond the first row of buildings stood a park, the hint of a pond reaching Chan’s eyes, where families were out picnicking and playing with their children. This wasn’t a space station. Not even a planet. This was a haven.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Minho asked, throwing an arm around both Chan and Changbin’s shoulders.

“It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Changbin easily admitted.

“The sky and the atmosphere are obviously fake, but the plants are all real. What was your planet like?”

The three of them did not talk about their pasts often. It was a sore and painful subject for all of them. But occasionally, curiosity would get the better of Minho.

“Dead.” Changbin’s eyes darkened as he thought of their birth planet.

“Sorry I asked,” Minho joked with the dark sense of sarcastic humor that Chan was slowly getting used to. The rebel pilot removed his arms from their shoulders and shoved them both forward.

Minho led them to a quaint building tucked into a corner and set back from the main road. Vines wove around the steel frame of the building dotted with purple flowers and rich gold leaves. He expected the inside to be extravagant, almost snobbish, like the homes of his Commanders on his planet. Instead, it felt homely, cozy, in a way his ship was beginning to feel now that they had the money to fill it with personal items and people he cared for.

Minho guided them through the building to a room in the back, to what Minho called a bar, though Chan wouldn’t know as he had never been to one. Sunlight filtered through the floor to ceiling windows, providing an ethereal glow to the whole room. Booths lined the walls, tables filled one side of the room, the other left open for dancing. A family of three sat at one booth, enjoying a late lunch, and there were a few other people scattered about. Otherwise, the place was mostly empty. Behind the bar counter, bottles of various colors and sizes lined the walls. Two people stood behind the counter drying glasses and stacking them. Both men were taller than Chan, one with purple hair and the other with dark brown hair pulled back into a loose bun.

“Welcome,” the purple-haired man said as they entered. Then he looked up at them, a dimpled smile spreading across his face. “My, my. Look what the cat dragged in.”

“I wish,” Minho said walking forward with quick, sure steps. “That would mean I had a cat.”

The man laughed and came around the counter to meet Minho. They hugged briefly. “Good to see you, man. Last we heard, you miraculously escaped execution. Again.”

“You know me,” Minho said with a smirk. “Meet the people who helped me escape. This is Chan and Changbin. Chan and Changbin, this is Namjoon and Jungkook. They own this Space Station.”

“Part, we own part of this space station,” Namjoon said.

Minho rolled his eyes. “Same thing,” he said, hopping onto a bar stool. Chan and Changbin took the seats on either side of him.

“So, what’ll it be, boys?” Namjoon asked.

“We need information, and something non-alcoholic for these two. They’re underage,” Minho conspiratorially whispered the last part.

“So are you,” Namjoon said. “How about three –”

Whatever Namjoon said next, Chan did not hear. The door had swung open. A loud, raucous group of four men stumbled into the bar, drawing his full attention. Instinctually, his hand reached for his weapon, griping the handle tightly. From the corner of his eye, Chan saw Changbin do the same. Chan tensed as the group neared, shoulders nearly to his ears, waiting for any sign of ill intent. The group walked by them, without even glancing his way. Still, old habits and deeply ingrained paranoia kept him alert and tense until the group commandeered a booth on the other side of the room and called over a waiter.

He turned his attention back to the bar to find Namjoon and Jungkook staring at him with twin suspicious looks.

“You two military?” Namjoon asked, grip tight around the glass he was drying.

“Ex-military,” Chan mumbled, not wanting to dwell on those days even the slightest.

“Confederation or Alliance? Though, you don’t fit the profile of someone who’s been in the Alliance army,” he said, an accusation heavy in his tone, though of what Chan did not know. He had no idea of what either of those were.

“Neither,” Minho answered for him, narrowing his eyes at Namjoon. The bar owner stared back at Minho evenly. “Do you really think I would hang out with Confederation soldiers, even ex-ones?”

“Well, you did magically escape from prison, and no one has seen you since,” Namjoon challenged back.

“Plenty of people have seen me,” Minho countered. “Just no one you know. I hope you’re not accusing me of turning traitor,” Minho said, a warning in his tone.

Unconsciously, Chan’s hand returned to his service weapon, a move that did not go unnoticed by Namjoon, as the tension mounted.

“Of course not,” Jungkook said, stepping next to Namjoon and elbowing the man back. “Namjoon’s just paranoid. You would have never gotten past security if you’d turned traitor.”

“If they’re not Confederation and they’re not Alliance, then what army did they serve in?” Namjoon asked, refusing to let it go, though Jungkook’s interference had dissipated some of the tension in his shoulders. Chan supposed he could understand the man’s suspicions. He was just looking out for himself and his people, after all, even if Chan had no idea what Namjoon was accusing him of.

“I have no clue,” Minho said and forced a cheerful smile. “Never asked what planet they were from.”

In an instant, Namjoon went from suspicious to concerned mother hen, the last of the tension draining from the room. “You mean you’ve been travelling with them for months and you have no idea where they came from? Do you have an self-preservation instincts whatsoever? You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still trying to get yourself killed.”

“I resent that. Did you forget the part where they saved me from being publicly executed? Besides, these two are so new to the galaxies outside of their planet that they would literally die without me. No offence,” Mino said, directing that last part to Chan and Changbin.

“None taken,” Changbin said, sipping the fizzy purple drink Jungkook set before him. Both he and Chan knew what Minho said was true.

“In fact, they’re so new to the galaxy, they don’t even know what the Confederation or the Alliance are. So stop confusing them.”

“It’s true,” Chan said, cautiously sipping the drink set before him as well. Something sweet and floral exploded across his tastebuds, and he barely stopped himself from humming contentedly at the delicious taste.

“No clue,” Changbin echoed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Namjoon said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

“I’m still offended,” Minho huffed and crossed his arms. Then his smile turned sly. “You can make it up to us, though, with a free meal, and some useful information.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and Jungkook outright laughed at Minho. “You really haven’t changed at all,” Namjoon laughed and ruffled Minho’s hair, the pilot batting his hand away playfully. “Get these three the house special,” Namjoon directed to a passing server.

“If you don’t mind us asking, where _are_ you two from?” Jungkook asked a few minutes later as he set a huge plate of food down in front of each of them.

Chan stared at the food, most of which he had never seen before, in shock for a moment before answering. “Hellevator.”

It had been drilled into his head since the day he was abducted off the streets that their side’s cause was the best for _Hellevator,_ and that they needed to win the civil war to ensure the best future for _Hellevator._ After years of war and countless battles fought, Chan still could not say what ‘the cause’ was, and he often wondered if the people who talked about ‘securing the best future’ realized they had destroyed any chance of a future by decimating the population and obliterating the planet. There was, quite simply, nothing left to fight for. Hellevator was a thought, a memory. Nothing more.

Jungkook sucked in a breath. “I’ve heard of that hellhole. Can’t say I’ve ever met someone from there before.”

“Not surprised,” Chan said, taking another long sip of his drink. “What is left of the population don’t get many chances to escape. We were lucky.”

“Good to hear,” Namjoon said as if he was honestly pleased for them. “Sorry, again, for accusing you of being Confederation.”

“Since I have no idea what that is, I guess I can’t be offended.”

“You’ll probably run into those assholes sooner or later. Minho, you should really fill your new friends in. Speaking of which, though, if you guys are looking for a job, I might have the perfect one for you.”

“If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s working,” Minho said. He spun around on his chair, his face morphing from serious to playful in a sec. “We’re always looking for a job, but what we’re really here for is information.”

“What kind of information do you need?” Jungkook asked, resting his forearms on the bar.

“You’ve heard of Televar, yes?”

“The slave planet?” Jungkook asked with disdain. “Of course, I’ve heard of it. What do you want to know about it?”

“I heard you might know someone who knows how to get the slave collars off.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not planning at slave revolt, are you? Did you or did you not just escape execution?”

“I _wish_ I was planning a revolt, but no. Nothing that drastic … yet. Chan here has got a crush on a slave –”

“I do _not_ have a crush,” Chan grumbled.

“But the more we’ve gotten to know this particular slave and his friend, the more adorable they’ve become, and the more we’ve come to care for both of them. It’s just not an option to leave them behind. We have to free them, but I wouldn’t even know where to start on how to get those collars off of them. Jackson says you might know someone who’s successfully freed a slave from there.”

“I do,” Namjoon said.

Chan perked up immediately. “So it is possible, then?”

Namjoon’s full attention fell on Chan, his gaze so intense it felt like it was scanning every inch of Chan’s heart and every thought he’d ever had in his entire life. A weaker man would have withered under the intense stare.

“Of course, it’s possible,” Jungkook said, elbowing Namjoon in the ribs again with a roll of his eyes.

“Can you contact them for us? Ask them how they did it?” Minho asked.

“I’ll do you one better,” Namjoon said, and though his gaze remained on Chan, the intensity faded. “I’ll have them contact you.”

“Thank you. We really appreciate it,” Chan said with a slight bow of his head.

Namjoon’s face scrunched up into a sincere smile, eyes turning to crescent moons, both surprising and confusing Chan. He felt like he just passed some sort of test, though he did not know what skill or attribute was assessed. “No need to thank us.”

“It may take some time to get ahold of them,” Jungkook said. “They’re a long ways away doing who knows what at this point.”

“It’s the first lead we’ve had so we’ll take whatever we can get. And if you could put out some of your own feelers, see if anyone else knows something?”

“Of course,” Jungkook easily agreed.

“You must be real desperate to free these slaves?” Namjoon turned a coy smile on Chan.

He felt his ears burn hot and his face flush. “It’s not like that,” he muttered.

“I’m only teasing,” Namjoon said with a hearty laugh.

“They really are adorable. Like kittens,” Minho wistfully said. “The one is a literal genius and nerds out over technology. And the other one gets so excited every time he learns something new. He literally cries when you compliment him, it’s the cutest thing ever –”

“We get it. You’re whipped,” Jungkook playfully teased. “Just remember, they’re not actual kittens.”

“Shut up!” Minho uncharacteristically shrieked. “One time! One time I pet you in my sleep and you never let me live it down.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Jungkook said with a wink.

“And for keeping your ego in check,” Namjoon said with a knowing look.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Should we tell your knew friends about the time you –”

“No!” Minho quickly interrupted. “No need to ruin my reputation just yet. They still think I’m somewhat cool.”

“We do?” Changbin said in between inhaling the food that had been placed in front of them.

“News to me,” Chan said, joining in the laughter at a flustered Minho’s expense.

“About that job,” Namjoon said as he took the plate Chan just finished polishing off. Never before had he been so stuffed in his life, but it was worth it, the food the most delish he’d ever tasted in his life. Had he not been in the company of so many other people, Chan would not have been above licking his plate clean.

“I’m suspicious of this job if you think I would be a perfect for it,” Minho said, waving his fork at Namjoon.

“Well you, and your new friends, Chan and Changbin.”

“Should I be worried?” Chan whispered conspiratorially to Minho.

“Definitely yes,” Minho whispered back.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Namjoon said, but before he could say anything more the front doors burst open, a burst of fresh air ripe with the scent of flowers, freshly cut grass, and something earthy filled the room. A figure stood in the doorway, perfect skin glowing and shoulder length blonde hair as bright as the sun. There was an aura around him that seemed to shimmer and sparkle as if glitter emanated from his very pores. He wore a white tunic with golden embroidery, with black leather pants and a black leather belt cinched around his slim waist. A dark green cloak billowed behind him despite the lack of air current in the bar. If beauty had a universal standard, this shiny teen would rank quite highly on the spectrum.

Two panting figures burst into the doorway behind him, clutching at the frames as they caught their breath. The shiny teen’s eyes scanned the room before falling on Changbin. The teen seemed to glow even brighter, steps quick, but confident as he headed straight towards them.

Like a rat accidentally caught in the midst of a battlefield, Changbin froze. He looked at Chan and the other’s frantically. Jungkook and Namjoon were silently laughing, and Minho looked awed, so Chan took his hand off his weapon and decided to watch whatever unfolded without interfering. He shrugged his shoulders at Changbin’s desperate look at him, knowing Changbin had noticed the other’s behavior and therefore knew he wasn’t in any danger, but still desperate to escape the unwanted attention.

“There you are, love. I’ve been looking all over for you,” the shiny teen said as he approached them. He cupped Changbin’s face with both hands, and to all their great surprise, firmly planted his lips against the ex-soldiers in a deep, prolonged kiss. Changbin squeaked, like a mouse that had its tail stepped on. “Sorry,” the beautiful boy said, looking at the two men who’d followed him into the bar. “I told you I was taken. And he gets jealous _real_ easy.”

“My heart,” the two young men wailed, clutching their chests as if the beautiful boy had actually stabbed them in the chest. They both pitifully wailed as they left the bar.

“Thanks,” the shiny teen said, sliding next to Changbin at the bar as if personal space meant nothing to him. “I know I am beautiful, but no means no, and they would not take the hint.”

One look at Changbin’s red face and cheeks so hot and puffy it looked as they would pop like a balloon, Chan and Minho burst into laughter at their younger friend’s expense.

The laughter jarred Changbin from his shock and he shoved the shiny teen away from him with a scowl. “What the hell, dude?”

“What?” the beautiful boy said and rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like that was your first kiss. You should be honored to have kissed me.”

Changbin hunched his shoulders to his ears, his face becoming impossibly redder as he tried to sink into the bar chair.

“Oh my, that was your first kiss? That’s so adorable. You’re adorable,” the beautiful boy said and tried to pinch Changbin’s beat red cheeks only to have his hand batted away.

“Hyunjin,” Namjoon gently chided. “Don’t tease the newbies. Especially since I think they might be the solution to your problem.”

The beautiful boy, Hyunjin, winked at Changbin and let the poor blushing ex-soldier have a centimeter more personal space. “I’m listening,” he said, leaning over the counter towards Namjoon with a coy smile towards Minho and Chan.

“Hyunjin, meet Minho, Chan, and Changbin, the poor boy you just assaulted. Minho, Chan, and Changbin, meet the job I was talking about,” Namjoon said.

“Job?” Minho and Hyunjin parroted at the same time, each side eyeing the other.

“Yes,” Namjoon said with a smile that Chan did not trust. He addressed his next words to Hyunjin. “Minho is one of the best pilots in the universe, and Chan and Changbin are both ex-soldiers.”

“They seem a bit young to be soldiers,” Hyunjin said, eyes suspiciously scanning him “From where did you get your training?”

“Have you ever heard of a planet called Hellevator?” Jungkook answered for them.

“I have not heard of that planet since my history studies. Is your planet still at civil war? What has been now, 25, 26 years?”

“You apparently know more than I do about my own planet,” Chan said, unaware that other people even knew Hellevator even existed, let alone studied it. “But to answer your question, yes, the planet is still at war.”

“And they’ve become so desperate, they started forcing children to fight their war for them.”

Hyunjin frowned, the sparkly aura around him dulling with his mood. “That’s horrible. You’ve both fought in many battles, then?”

Chan shrugged and Changbin looked away.

Hyunjin suddenly shined so bright, Chan flinched. “That’s perfect, you’re perfect,” he said, throwing an arm around Minho and Chan's shoulder and pulling them tightly to him in a side hug. “And you come highly recommended from the leader of BTS himself! There’s no way my father can say no.”

“Did I say highly recommended?”

“No take backs,” Hyunjin said, squeezing Minho and Chan tightly.

“What is happening here? What did you just get us into?” Minho asked Namjoon accusingly.

“As you might not know, it’s election year for the Alliance,” Namjoon explained.

“And that relates to us how, exactly?” Minho asked.

“My father, King of the planet Levanter,” Hyunjin said, words dripping with disdain, “is running for President of the Alliance this year, because the trade treaties are being renegotiated next year and the corrupt bastard wants to ensure Levanter gets a favorable deal.”

“I thought the Alliance was better than the Confederation?” Chan interrupted. At least, that was the impression he had gotten from Namjoon earlier.

“Just because something is better, doesn’t mean it’s the best. There’s always room for improvement,” Jungkook said.

“My father thinks I’m an embarrassment. He doesn’t want me to do anything stupid or embarrassing that might ruin his chances at election, nor does he want me to be kidnapped by his opponents to try and force him to concede. He wouldn’t care, mind you, if I _was_ kidnapped, but he’d be forced to look like he cared to the public. He’s tried to keep me under lock and key, and when that did not work, he’s assigned various body guards to keep me under control. I’ve just escaped from my 7th one,” Hyunjin proudly said.

“I still don’t see how this relates to us,” Chan asked.

“You can be my bodyguards,” Hyunjin cheerfully said.

“What?” Changbin yelled, nearly chocking on his own spit.

“It’s perfect. I make a deal with my father to willingly show up to his public appearances and play the loving son, but I get to keep my freedom and travel as I please with you three. And since you two are soldiers, it should be easy enough to convince my father that you are capable of keeping me out of trouble. I am certain my father would pay you handsomely to take care of his biggest problem, aka me.”

“And what, all we have to do is fly you wherever you need to go and make sure you don’t get kidnapped?” Minho skeptically asked. 

“Precisely. It’s a win-win for all of us.”

“I don’t know about that,” Changbin grumbled.

“What do you think, Captain?” Minho asked, swiveling around on his chair to face Chan.

“Don’t call me that.” He flicked Minho on the forehead, earning a dramatic ‘ow’ in return. “I think if it grants Hyunjin the freedom he seeks, and we are compensated for it, then why not? What do you two think?”

Before they could respond, Hyunjin whipped around to face Minho and Changbin, eyes wide, lips turned down in a frown, and hands clasped before him. “Please? I promise to behave if you can keep me away from my father’s tyranny.”

“I am immune to your charms, Levantian,” Minho said. “But I am not opposed to the idea. I mean, what do we have to lose? And maybe he can help us with our problem.”

“Yes, anything!” a desperate Hyunjin agreed.

“You guys cannot be serious,” Changbin said.

“Why not?” Minho asked with a shrug.

“Because he kissed me, that’s why.”

“I promise to never kiss you again… Unless you want me to,” Hyunjin teased with wink.

“There’s no harm in at least talking to his father,” Chan said.

Hyunjin grabbed Chan by the hands, dragged him from the bar stool and twirled him around. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise, you won’t regret this.”

*

Four days later, Minho touched their ship down on the planet Levanter. They were nearly arrested again, until upon recognizing the Prince, were instead escorted into the palace. Unlike the Big Hit space station, that felt homey and humble, this planet flaunted its excessive wealth with every gold embroidered curtain, ornate door and walkway, and jewel encrusted person. The King himself wore a large golden crown decorated with emeralds that gleamed brightly in the sun filtering through the floor to ceiling windows with intricately carved designs on the wooden frames.

 _“Before you meet my father_ ,” Hyunjin had said to them on the long flight to the planet _, “just know that I am nothing like him. I care little for his riches and would prefer the money go to our people instead. However, I am not taken seriously by my father nor the council.”_

The King, clad in a white tunic and pants embroidered with gold and a flowing cape that matched the color of his emeralds, approached them flanked by two armed guards. Like Hyunjin, the King had a glowing aura around him, though it wasn’t nearly as bright nor as sparkly as his son’s. Hyunjin, who had changed just before they landed into his own gold embroidered tunic and pants, bowed as his father approached, gently nudging Chan and the other’s until they bowed as well.

“Son, I see you have returned on your own volition this time. And with guests.” It was hard not to hear the disdain in the man’s voice.

“You always did say you wished I was a bit more _proactive,”_ Hyunjin said politely with a tight smile as he straightened, Chan and the other’s following suit. “I propose a deal.”

“You are no in position to propose such a thing,” the King said with a sneer.

“I disagree,” Hyunjin said. He clasped both hands behind his back and paced around his father. “You want me to be the perfectly behaved son at your fundraisers and public appearances, and I want my freedom. In order to achieve what we both want, I agree to attend all the required events and play the part you want me to, in exchange for allowing me to travel freely with these three, and you pay them to be my bodyguards instead of your men.” He stopped pacing and leveled his father with a challenging glare.

“Ha!” The King snapped his fingers, and one of the guards handed over a tablet that he briefly scanned. “You want me to agree to let you travel with a wanted criminal and two,” he stopped, surprise briefly flitting across his features, before his voice continued with less certainty, “men of unknown species. Where did you even find two people outside the realm of the Alliance’s knowledge?”

“Big Hit Space Station,” Hyunjin confidently said, turning his back on his father briefly to hide his victory smile as his father’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at the answer. “And they are not of unknown origin, Chan and Changbin are from Hellevator. If you know enough about Minho to know he’s a criminal, then you also know he is one of the best pilots in the galaxy,” Hyunjin said, parroting Namjoon’s words in his argument for freedom, though he had no way of knowing if the information was actually true. “They are more than adequate for the job.”

The King’s eyes scanned over Chan’s mismatched crew. “Come with me,” he addressed Chan and his crew as he strolled out of the cavernous room and into the open hallway. “You stay here,” he insisted, pointing at his son and guards.

Chan hesitantly followed, Changbin close behind him, watching his back and Minho at his side.

The King stopped at a balcony that looked over the city below. The streets were full of below scurrying along stone pathways, unhindered by traffic that instead flew by above their position, spaceships and hovering cars alike hurrying to their next stop. Though none quite as grand as the palace, skyscrapers filled every available free space outside of the pathways for as far as the eye could see in every direction.

“Hellevator,” the King said when Chan caught up to him. “The planet of perpetual civil war.”

“So I’ve been told,” Chan carefully said.

“For which side did you fight?” the King asked, setting his piercing gaze on him. Chan met his gaze evenly. After everything he had survived, this man did not scare him. Was it so obvious, though, that Chan and Changbin were soldiers? It was the very thing he did not want to be known as, and yet the one thing people noticed most about him, it seemed.

“They never told me. Changbin and I were kidnapped off the streets as children and told to fight or be killed.”

“The situation has deteriorated then if your planet as resorted to such tactics,” the King said, leaning on the railing and looking down at his people below. “Perhaps, the Alliance has ignored the issue for far too long. When I am President, I will look into remedying the situation.”

“Are you trying to bribe us?” Minho asked.

The King’s piercing gaze settled on Minho, before he sighed. He carefully thought over his next words. “Despite what my son might think, I do care about him. Which is why I wonder why you would do this for him?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?” Chan asked. Honestly, he didn’t really know either, other than this constant need of his to protect the people around him. Minho and Changbin were two of those people who need his protection, and in a short amount of time, he had come to consider both his family. Hyunjin, apparently, was another person who needed his help and he could not just turn his back, like he couldn’t just turn his back on Felix and Seungmin.

“I suppose not.” With a long-suffering sigh, the King called over his attendants and dictated, “I will allow my son his wish. Granted you can keep him alive and well and preferably out of any news, I will pay you to look after him. I will have my advisors draw up a contract. Minho’s record will be expunged and all three of these men will be provided with Alliance IDs and clearance so that they may bring my son safely to events. I will also be providing you with a new ship. I cannot have my son travelling in that death trap of yours.”

“A new ship?” Minho asked, his eyes lighting up with a gleam as her barely contained his glee. “What kind of ship?”

“Only the best the Alliance has to offer, but without being too glamourous. We don’t want to make it obvious you are carrying the Prince, after all.”

"Indeed," Minho said with mock seriousness, but still overjoyed at the prospect of a new ship. 

“We will discuss the details over dinner,” the King said, ushering them back towards the cavernous room and Hyunjin. One look at his father, and the prince knew the King had caved on his demands. He bounced once on his toes, and hid his grin by lowering his head.

Chan had no idea what they had just gotten themselves into, but he figured it could not be that bad, and in the end, might even be worth it.


End file.
